Josh POV
xxx
It's official: every last person in the West Wing is miserable. Everyone has been preoccupied for a few weeks, but now that Simon Donovan is dead it feels like a giant weight has settled over all the people who work here. Of course CJ is in the worst shape, because she knew him the best, but Leo and the President are somber, Toby is preoccupied with watching out for CJ, and Sam is trying to balance his preoccupation with reelection with his desire to be a good friend to CJ and Toby. Even Donna looks tired.
Or she has been. Right now I can't find her. I've been wandering around looking for her for the past twenty minutes, because, well, I can't really remember why I needed her in the first place, but she wasn't at her desk and now it's just bugging me that she's not there.
I catch Sam in the halls. "Hey, have you seen Donna?" I ask.
He looks up from memo he's reading and blinks. "Yeah, I think I saw her go into CJ's office a little while ago," he says absently.
"I thought CJ had that thing," I say in surprise.
"They called and cancelled," he says, burying his head back in the memo.
I go into CJ's office without knocking, but whatever I'm about to say flies out of my head when I'm confronted by the scene in front of me. CJ is crying, and Donna is holding her in her arms making soothing noises while CJ leans her head tiredly on Donna's shoulder. They look up when I barge in. I stop, horrified. "I'm sorry-"
CJ sits up and wipes her eyes hastily. "It's okay. What's up?"
"Nothing," I say, still transfixed. "Are you all right, CJ?"
Donna glares at me and crosses the room to block my entrance into the room, so I'm stuck hovering in the doorway. "She's fine," she says.
I crane my neck to see around her. "You sure?"
"Yes," she says forcefully, placing a hand on my chest and pushing me out of the office. I see CJ duck her head again and I automatically start forward. "Josh, stop pushing and leave her alone," she says, the force behind her slender hand against my chest staying my progress.
I blink. "I'm only trying to help," I say defensively.
"You're not helping," she says bluntly.
"Is there anything I can do?" I ask.
"No," she says shortly. "Now, go away."
"I could get her some water, or something," I suggest, pressing forward.
"There's nothing you can do, Josh," she says harshly. "Just give her some space."
I open my mouth to retort, but then I close it again and nod. Donna drops her hand from my chest and steps back, closing the door in my face. I take a faltering step away from the doorway, hurt and stunned by Donna's dismissal. I wander back into my office and stare out the window morosely, trying to figure out why this bothers me so much.
A little while later Donna and I are back in my office, talking about Simon, and CJ, and everything they went through together.
"Do you think she loved him?" I muse.
She hesitates. "Yes."
Her answer surprises me. "But they barely knew each other," I protest.
She nods. "If you asked her, that's what she'd tell you."
"How can you think she loved him after only knowing him a few weeks?" I want to know.
"I think... I think she loved him as far as she knew him," she answers carefully. "She wasn't over the edge, in love with him. But she could see her way to loving him."
I mull this over. I can accept that. "Do you think he loved her?"
"I can't speak for him," she says.
"I think he did," I say, without really knowing why. "At least as far as he knew her."
"I'm glad," she says softly.
I glance at her. "Is that why this is so hard? I'm not trying to be insensitive, but it's been a few weeks, and she doesn't seem better. CJ's so resilient. I would have thought that she'd have bounced back at least a little bit by now."
Donna shakes her head. "That's not the reason it's hard. It would have been easier if that were the reason."
"What do you mean?" I ask curiously.
"With love, it's easier," she explains. "The emotions are defined, accepted. If she were his girlfriend, or his wife, the grief would be easier to bear."
"You think?" I ask, surprised. "If she were his wife? That's so much deeper."
"But it's defined," she counters. "A wife is allowed to grieve as deeply as she needs to. But with this..." she sighs. "She has no role or label. There's no prescribed depth. She doesn't know how much she's supposed to be feeling, and she's afraid she might be feeling too much."
"Well, that shouldn't matter," I say. "She should just feel how she feels. No one would belittle her emotions because of some role she's supposed to play."
"If that were true, you wouldn't expect her to have bounced back by now," she says.
Touché. "I'm sorry."
She shakes off my apology. "She has to deal with people questioning her grief because they don't understand her place in the matter, and after a while, she starts questioning her place too. Were her feelings real? Were his? Or was it all in her imagination? That's why it's hard. The doubt. Everyone thinks that she ought to have moved past this, but she can't, and she doesn't know why, because other people have taken away the legitimacy of her grief."
"I'm sorry. She shouldn't have to feel like her grief isn't real," I say.
"No," she says. "She shouldn't."
Days pass. I break up with Amy. We just get too tired of fighting all the time. I can't deal with being miserable at home when I'm miserable all day at the office.
And miserable I am. I hate this. I'm tired of everyone being tired and angry. I especially hate that Donna has been affected. At first I thought she was just tired, and her unhappiness was tied to the general air of dissatisfaction and regret around here. Donna is the most empathetic of our group, and while she feels emotions deeply on behalf of others, usually she manages to maintain a lightness of spirit that eludes the rest of us most of the time. But she looks awful. She hasn't said anything, but I can tell. I've been preoccupied with my own problems, professionally and personally, with Amy, and I haven't expended the effort to figure out what's going on with Donna. The truth is, I've grown accustomed to having her anticipate my needs and accommodate them without me having to ask. Only now she's consumed by something that isn't me. It's hurting her and I don't know what to do. A small truthful part of me insists that I do know, but I'm too selfish to do anything about it. She's spoiled me, and now when she needs someone, all I can think about is that I need her and she's not there. Not the way she usually is.
Speak of the devil. "Donna," I call, as I see her walk past my office. I get up and jog after her.
"Hmm?" she asks, without looking up from a file she's reading as she walks.
"Come in here and talk to me about H.R. 94," I say.
"In a minute, Josh. I'm taking this over to CJ," she says.
"Can't you do it later?" I ask, feeling neglected.
"I could, but I saw her earlier and she was looking a little down so I thought I would try to cheer her up a little," she answers. "I've been trying to watch out for her. She needs someone to take care of her right now."
"Can't Carol take care of her?" I wonder aloud.
"Why would Carol do it?" she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"She's CJ's assistant."
Her jaw drops slightly and she looks at me with a mixture of hurt and disbelief. "It's not part of the job description, Josh."
Belatedly I realize what I've just said. She turns to walk away from me, but I grab her hand, sick with shame. "Donna, I..." I swallow. "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. That was a jackass thing to say. It was an insult to Carol, and an insult to you, and I apologize."
"It's okay," she says, trying to pull away.
"No." I hang on to her so she can't leave before hearing me out. "It was a stupid thing to say. I don't want you to think I take you or your friendship for granted. I know that it's not part of your job, or Carol's, to take care of your bosses. But I know you take care of me, and I know Carol and CJ get along, so..." I shrug helplessly. "I guess I just have trouble distinguishing the line between what an assistant does and what a friend does, because with you I've never had to. I know all the things you do for me aren't part of your duties as my assistant. That summer..." I shake my head to rid myself of images of Donna helping me through every step of my recovery, holding me at night when I woke gasping from the nightmares. "But before that, even..."
"Josh, what are you trying to say?" she interrupts me.
I scrub my hand over my face. "I don't know. For me, the word 'assistant' is synonymous with 'comfort.' I forget that the word doesn't mean the same thing to everyone else. And since you've been spending so much time with CJ... I don't know, I think I was jealous because I didn't get to have you all to myself. I know it makes me a terrible friend, because CJ needs help right now, and you're the most caring person I've ever met, and she deserves that kind of compassion from someone, but I didn't want to share you." God, I make myself sick. "I'm such a selfish bastard," I say, getting more and more upset. "CJ needs you. I'm sorry for being such an asshole and then making you stay and listen to me. You should go help her. God knows she deserves you more than I do."
"Josh," Donna interrupts me. I meet her eyes guiltily, but she doesn't look angry. "It's okay," she says softly, and this time I believe her.
"Okay," I say shakily, relieved, but still kind of confused about everything that's happening around here with CJ and my assistant and my feelings about the entire situation.
She cups my face in her hand and I lean into her touch gratefully. "Have you talked to Stanley since Simon was shot?" she asks quietly.
I blink. "What? No."
"Why not?" she wants to know.
"I... it doesn't have anything to do with me," I say stupidly.
"Josh... of course it does. Someone close to you has lost someone to a gunshot wound. You're allowed to be upset."
I duck my head, and her hand drops from my face to come around to the back of my head and softly play with the curls at the nape of my neck. "I know. It just seems like I shouldn't be worrying about myself right now while CJ's in so much pain."
She laughs. "Yeah, you're a real selfish bastard. Josh, everyone's upset about this. It's a horrible thing. Everyone is struggling to deal with this in their own way. You should talk to Stanley if you think it would make you feel better." She wraps her arms around me and I hold her tight to me.
"I feel better now," I mumble into her shoulder.
She rubs gentle circles on my upper back. "You should still call Stanley."
"Okay," I agree.
"Good." She lets go of me but I don't let her go so easily. I keep my hands on her waist and rest my forehead against hers. "Donna... thanks. I know holding me together is not part of the job description, but I really am a selfish bastard and have no problem abusing our professional relationship to keep you close at hand when I need you personally, and I want to let you know that I appreciate you letting me do that, so... thanks," I conclude, releasing her reluctantly.
She smiles. "You're welcome." She picks up her file and turns to go.
"Wait," I say suddenly.
She turns back to me. "Yes?" she says expectantly.
I rake my hand through my hair again. "Do you... do you think there's something I could do?"
She grins. "Well, I have my doubts, but I'm sure we have something around here you're capable of doing."
I fix her with a mock glare. "That's not what I meant. I meant... for CJ. I've tried talking to her, but she keeps putting me off. I really hate seeing her like this, and it's making me crazy not being able to do anything to help her. So I was wondering... if you had any ideas," I finish lamely.
Donna's expression softens. "Okay."
I look at her expectantly. "Well? Any brilliant suggestions?"
"Gee, you sure don't expect much from a girl on short notice," she says.
"Donna."
She looks thoughtful for a moment. "You should get her a flower," she announces finally.
I frown. "You think I should get her flowers?"
"No. Not flowers. A flower."
"A flower? Not flowers? Why a flower?" I ask, confused.
"Because."
"Because," I echo. "You're just going to leave it at that?"
"Yes. You should get her a flower."
"What kind of flower?" I want to know.
"I don't know, you have to pick it out yourself," she says.
This, of course, causes me to panic. "Donna, I'm terrible at this sort of thing. Can't you just tell me what kind of flower would be appropriate?" I ask apprehensively.
She rolls her eyes. "No."
"Why not?" I ask anxiously.
"It'll mean more if you pick it out yourself."
"But what if I accidentally pick out a flower that is symbolic of a desire to see her dropped in the middle of a forest and eaten by wild boars?" I ask nervously.
She cocks an eyebrow at me. "Wild boars, Joshua?"
I shrug helplessly. "I once had a girl break up with me because I sent her a bunch of yellow carnations."
"Yellow carnations are a symbol of rejection, Josh," she says.
"You see what I mean?" I say, panicked. "Hidden meanings get me every time!"
"Just check with the florist to make sure the flower you pick out has no relation to wild boars," she says soothingly.
"Oh." I suppose that is a logical way of dealing with the problem. "I don't suppose you know-"
"There's a florist at 2000 Penn," she says, referring to a small shopping mall a few blocks from the White House. "It's near the watch shop."
"Thanks, Donna," I say gratefully.
Donna goes to check on CJ and I resolve to go find a flower. I check my schedule and see that I have nothing pressing for a couple of hours, so I grab my wallet and ID and head outdoors. I walk down to the florist's; it doesn't take long.
I enter the shop, a bell clanging as I step over the threshold. A woman is buying a potted plant from a man behind the counter, so I'm free to look around for a minute by myself. I peruse the shelves of flowers, wondering vaguely what I'm looking for, and feeling mildly frustrated that I don't know. I see tons of flowers I don't want. Roses, nah; marigolds, well just getting one would look silly; yeah, I'm definitely staying away from carnations for the rest of my time on this earth. I rub my temples. I knew I should have made Donna come with me. I see some orchids and frown. That's closer, but it's not quite... I stop in front of a large display of purple flowers. An iris. That's it.
I pluck the biggest blossom out of the arrangement and take it up to the register. I notice a flash of yellow out of the corner of my eye when the man behind the counter takes the iris from me. "Would you like this wrapped?" he asks.
I glance over at the splash of yellow to my left. It's a daffodil. "Hmm? Oh, yes please." I look at the daffodil again. It's very pretty. Suddenly, I remember Donna's admonition. "Oh, can you tell me if there's any sort of negative connotation associated with irises?" I ask belatedly.
The man shakes his head. "No. The iris represents faith, wisdom, valor, and hope." Oh. Well, that's... perfect. I look over at the daffodil again, and suddenly find myself reaching for it, handing it to the florist when he lays down the iris for a moment. "I'll take this one, too."
He takes it from me. "Would you like this one wrapped as well?"
I shake my head. "No. Could you put them each in vases, instead?"
"Of course," he says. He finds me two tall, slender vases and fills them with water before putting the flowers in them. I pay him and take the vases from him, holding them carefully so I don't spill the water or accidentally dump the flowers on the floor. I'm halfway out the door when I stop and turn around. "What does the daffodil represent?" I ask him. I'm planning on giving it to Donna, and I don't want her to be pissed at me. She definitely seems to be tuned to these hidden meanings. Knowing my luck, daffodils probably mean that I hope her pet dies, or something.
"The daffodil, let's see.. 'You're the only one; regard; unrequited love; the sun shines when I'm with you,'" he says.
I stare at the flower, horrified. You're the only one; regard; unrequited love; the sun shines when I'm with you. And I was planning on giving it to Donna. That pretty much sums it up, doesn't it? Now that I know what it means, do I still give it to her? It's hardly professional of me to give a flower that means all those things to Donna.
Oh, what the hell. It's pretty, I already paid for it, and she probably won't read anything into it since she knows how clueless I am about things like this. I'll just plead ignorance if she questions me about the significance of the flower. If there's one thing I'm good at convincing people of, it's my ignorance. If I try hard enough, I'm sure I can convince even myself that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I bought her this flower. However, this isn't going to stop me from watching her like a hawk for her reaction to getting a flower that means all those things from me.
I walk into the West Wing, trying unsuccessfully to conceal the fact that I am carrying two tall vases containing single flowers. I make it through the first two hallways safely, and I think I'm home free when I'm startled by a low voice in my ear.
"Hey, Josh," says Margaret. "Who are the flowers for?"
I practically jump out of my skin. "Uh... CJ and Donna."
"You got a daffodil for Donna?" she asks, her eyes as wide as saucers.
"Yeah," I answer warily. "How did you know the daffodil was for Donna?"
She shrugs. "It seems like a good flower for Donna."
"What does that mean?" I ask suspiciously.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing. Do you happen to know what the significance of daffodils are?"
I stare at her. "Is this sensitivity to the significance of flowers something that all females are born with?"
She shakes her head. "No. Most don't have a clue. My cousin owns a flower shop. So you don't know the significance?"
I pretend to furrow my brown in confusion. "The significance?"
"You know, the symbolism behind the flower," she explains.
"No, I never gave it much thought. Why, does the daffodil mean something bad?" I ask innocently.
"No, no," she says quickly. "Nothing bad."
"So, it's something good, then?" I ask.
"Yup. You know, I think that's probably the perfect flower for you to give to Donna," she says cheerfully.
Whoa. "Really?" I squeak. "Why, what does it mean?"
She looks at me for a long moment before she finally answers. "Um... friendship."
Margaret's a terrible liar. I pretend to heave a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I wouldn't want to give her a flower with some sort of inappropriate meaning."
"Trust me, Josh," she says feelingly. "The daffodil is very appropriate for you and Donna."
"Huh. Well maybe I'll suggest Sam give one to Kathy," I say. "That could be a good way for him to express his appreciation for her."
"No!" Margaret practically shouts. She calms down a little. "No, I don't think that's a good idea."
I frown. "Hmm. Do you think maybe Ginger would like to get one from Toby?" I ask.
Margaret looks completely revolted. "Definitely not." She shudders.
I shrug. "Okay, well, I'm just going to go deliver these now," I say, holding up the vases.
I head over towards my office, and I'm somewhat disappointed to see that Donna's not at her desk. I put the daffodil in the center of her desk so she'll be sure to see it when she gets back, and I walk over to CJ's office.
She's not there when I go in, so I busy myself moving some stuff off her desk so I have room to put the iris.
I practically knock over the vase, though, when a voice interrupts me. "What are you doing?" CJ asks curiously.
"CJ!" I put my hand over my heart to prevent it from trying to leap out of my rib cage.
"That's me," she says cheerfully. "What are you doing to my desk?"
I look down at the mess I've created. "Oh– I'm... uh, organizing it."
"You were organizing my desk?" she asks incredulously.
"Yes," I say.
She shrugs. "Okay. Did you need something?"
"No," I say.
"Then what are you doing in my office, rearranging my desk?" she wants to know.
"I got you a flower," I blurt out. I grab the vase and thrust it towards her. "Here."
She takes it and sits down at her desk. I plop down in the visitor's chair. I feel like an idiot. But CJ is smiling.
"You got me a flower?" she says. "What made you decide to do that?"
I open my mouth and then close it again. I may be pretty stupid, but even I know better than to tell a woman I got her a flower because Donna told me to. "Oh– well... I guess... I knew you didn't want to talk, but I suppose... I... well... I just wanted to you to know I'm here."
"So you decided to break into my office and rearrange everything on my desk so you could make your presence known," she teases.
I offer her a small smile. "Well... yeah."
She smiles back at me. "You know, you really can be very sweet sometimes," she says, placing the vase next to Gail's goldfish bowl (a place of honor) and inspecting her iris lovingly.
Whew. I grin at her. "Yes, I can."
"So... an iris, huh?" she says. "How'd you come up with that one?"
Oh, we're in dangerous territory now. Damn hidden meanings. "Er... well, I guess it kind of reminded me of you," I say.
She raises an eyebrow. "So I'm large and purple, now?"
"No," I counter. I pause. "Unique. Tall, beautiful, and proud." Solitary and proud. I hear Donna's voice in my head. Not flowers. A flower. How does she know these things?
CJ blinks. "Josh, are you trying to ask me to marry you?"
I pat my suit pockets. "Dammit, I know I've got the ring here somewhere..."
"Save it, flower boy," she says with a chuckle. "I'm way out of your league."
"Well, I've always known that, Claudia Jean, but you can't blame a guy for trying," I tease. "The florist said the iris stands for faith, wisdom, valor, and hope. Do I get points for knowing that?"
She gets up and walks around the desk. "Come here," she says with a laugh, opening her arms and beckoning me towards her. I get up and walk into her embrace eagerly. She gives me a hug and kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you. Now, get out of here. Some of us have to work for a living, you know."
"I'll be counting the hours until I can feel your sweet lips on mine, my darling!" I call over my shoulder as I head out of her office.
"In your dreams, mi amor," she calls back.
I head back to my office whistling and see Donna sitting at her desk with the daffodil right in the middle of it. "Hey," I greet her.
She looks up at me, her expression unreadable. "You got me a flower."
I glance at the daffodil. "What makes you think it was me?" I ask. "Maybe you have a secret admirer, Donnatella."
"You got me a flower," she repeats.
"Yes," I say hesitantly, and take a faltering step towards her. "You're not going to get mad at me again, are you?" I ask anxiously, remembering the disastrous flower-giving effort of our April anniversary. "Not that you should be mad, but the question isn't completely out of line. You have been known to express displeasure at my floral generosity before," I say.
She shakes her head. "I'm not mad. Just... why did you buy me a flower?"
I shrug uncomfortably. "I dunno."
"Was there a buy one daffodil, get one free deal going on at the florist's?" she asks.
"No," I answer. "I got CJ an iris."
She pauses. "An iris?"
"Yeah," I say, feeling anxious for some reason.
"Good choice," she says, and I feel a palpable wave of relief wash over me at her approval. "You got me a daffodil."
"Yes," I say.
"Why?" she asks.
Because the sun shines when you're with me. "I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time." Please, please, let's not have a conversation about the significance of daffodils. I just thought she could use a little pick me up. She's been looking tired recently, her face drawn and her shoulders tense. The past couple of weeks have been hard on everyone, but for some reason Donna has been showing the strain more than the rest of us, when normally she's the one picking everyone else up when things get bad.
She turns back to her desk and looks down at her hands. "You know, sometimes, Josh..." she begins quietly. "You can be really..."
Really what? She said she wasn't mad, but she certainly doesn't look happy, either. In fact, I think I saw something just splash on her desk.
"Donnatella, are you crying?" I ask, horrified. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I made her cry. I can't handle seeing Donna cry. I really can't handle me being the one making her cry.
"Of course not," she says, hastily wiping her eyes.
"Yes, you are," I accuse. "I'm never getting you flowers again."
"No, Josh," she says. "I'm really glad you did this for me."
I look at her suspiciously. "You sure? Because I've seen people cry from happiness before, and those really don't look like tears of joy to me."
She blinks. "I'm not crying," she says firmly. If I were anybody else, I wouldn't be able to tell she's lying. She stands up and puts her arms around me. "You really can be very sweet sometimes," she whispers in my ear.
My arms automatically snake around her and suddenly I'm dying to have a conversation about the symbolism of daffodils. She presses her lips to my cheek, letting them linger a little bit longer than normal. She pulls back, her hand resting lightly on my chest. "Thank you for the daffodil. It's beautiful."
"You're welcome," I say, wondering if she can feel my heart hammering beneath her hand.
She sniffles. "You have a meeting."
"Okay." I let go of her reluctantly, but feel somewhat relieved overall. Things are starting to feel a little more normal around here.
A few days later, CJ is laughing and joking in the bullpen and I watch her with undisguised joy. I see Donna watching her out of the corner of my eye and I squeeze her arm. "She's back," I whisper contentedly.
Donna smiles a half smile and nods. "You guys have senior staff in five minutes," she says, turning away from me.
I head into senior staff with a grin on my face. I watch happily as CJ teases Leo and Toby, and argues with Sam about the fourteenth amendment, and asks the President about his position on a new piece of legislation. As we walk out of the Oval Office, I beam because she playfully shoves me away and turns to Sam when I throw my arm around her and profess my undying love for her.
I'm feeling content as I head back to the bullpen, thinking about my schedule for the afternoon and idly wondering why Donna wasn't waiting in the hall to go over it with me the way she usually does. Sam asks me a question and I get sidetracked for awhile untangling a policy issue for a speech he and Toby are working on for next week.
Twenty minutes later, I walk into my office to see Donna sitting in my chair with her back to me, her arms crossed over her chest and her feet resting on the sill as she looks out the window. I catch glimpse of her reflection and the look on her face frightens me. She looks unspeakably sad. "Hey," I say softly, coming up behind her.
She doesn't turn around. "Hey."
I hesitantly put my hand on her shoulder. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she says, but she reaches up and covers my hand with her own. I freeze, and then give her shoulder a careful squeeze. She doesn't let go, though. She laces her fingers through mine, and then she sighs and leans her head on her shoulder, rubbing her soft cheek against the back of my hand. My breath catches in my throat. Something is happening right now, and I have no idea what it is.
Donna and I don't do this. I wish we did this, but we don't. Or, I should say, we do this, but in different roles. She always watches out for me, and comforts me when I'm upset. I watch out for her, but she doesn't let me comfort her when she's upset. Except now she is. And this time, I didn't see it coming, and I don't know what to do.
"Donna," I say helplessly.
She stands up and faces me. "Thank you," she whispers, and then wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her body close to mine.
It would feel good if I weren't so terrified. "For what?" I ask shakily.
She pulls back a little and leans her forehead against mine. "For not putting me through that."
And suddenly, it all becomes clear. The reason Donna has been looking so strained for the past few weeks. The reason she has circles under her eyes, and the reason she has been anticipating CJ's every move since Simon died. It's me.
I'm the reason. When she said, 'she's afraid she might be feeling too much,' she meant, she might be feeling too much for me. When she said, 'everyone thinks that she ought to have moved past this, but she can't, and she doesn't know why, because other people have taken away the legitimacy of her grief,' she meant, people don't understand why the Deputy Chief of Staff's assistant can't get over the fact that her boss never made it out of surgery.
"Donnatella," I breathe. I pull her closer to me. I think about asking Toby who called her after Rosslyn and the look in his eyes when he said, 'No one called her. She just came. She saw the President on the news and was worried that he was hurt.' I stroke her hair and cradle her gently. "You're my next of kin. On all my medical forms. I changed them so you're my next of kin, you're the first person they call."
She holds me tightly. "You're my next of kin, too," she sniffs. "But that's only because my mother lives too far away to get to the hospital in time if they needed to operate."
"That's not why you're my next of kin," I whisper. "You're my next of kin because I need you to be by my side if they operate." She starts to cry. "I need you to be there when I wake up," I continue. I cup her cheek. "I need you to touch my face and tell me what's next. And I need you to hold my hand at the emergency room six months later when I put my hand through a window," I add, pressing my lips to her forehead reverently.
"It would have been so much worse if it were you," she says. "I know you better than she knew him. Even then, I knew you better than anyone in the world." She loved him as far as she knew him. She kisses me lightly on the lips. It might have been considered a platonic kiss, except for the fact that she follows it by commenting, "I was already over the edge." Over the edge, in love. "But I didn't know... if you were."
"Oh, God, Donna," I say, closing my eyes and crushing her to me. "Of course I was. I've been fighting it since the moment I met you, but I've been over the edge for a long time. I had been, even then."
She kisses me again, a light, sweet kiss. I want to stop, and shout, 'Donna just kissed me!' but I don't think it would be appropriate under the circumstances. Instead, I content myself with kissing her back, just as quickly, just as lightly. "I love you," she whispers.
"I love you too," I say fervently. She's crying, and I'm holding her, and we share sweet, tentative kisses and I think, at last, I know my true place in her life. It's the same place she holds in mine. And her place is in my heart.